Charlie Matt's wonderful life

To start off this story, maybe I should introduce myself. My name is Charlie Matt, and I lead a very (un)normal life. Well, if you have four older and three younger siblings living in a normal two story house with a single mom that's always at work, I'll be quite surprised if you felt normal. Now, lets go to my siblings. First there is Sam. He's the oldest, and the smartest. For fun, he'd stay up under his blankets and read the Oxford Dictionary, and found spelling mistakes to be as serious as life-threatening diseases. That's why every young kid in our home remembers to hide their spelling homework whenever he's around the corner.

Then there's Sophie. Sometimes, you can't tell the difference between her and her phone, no offense. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr, she has it all, and worst of all she never really gets off. 

Third oldest, Rick. He loves studying Neurology. His side of the bedroom (he shares with Sam and Me) is filled with Neurology books. Study of Neurological surgery by Donovan Flannnel is a book he has three copies of.

Fourth oldest is Dean. Whenever you name all those in our family, you would forget him, because he's as quiet as solid air. The only one who has his own bedroom, you'd think him harmless until you get into his bedroom without asking. Trust me, I tried, and trust me, I barely survived. If you do, then bad for you, because he practically turns into a monster and instantly screams for you to leave.

Then there's me. I'm the only normal one. I do my homework, I've got F's before (so what, mom?) and I read normal books and I talk, unlike Dean. 

First youngest is Beau. He's a little baby but a very intelligent one. He knows how to fold clothes and is now learning to read. He looks like a little cutie, but he's precise. He wants the exact type of diaper from the exact type of store from the exact type of section.

Second youngest is Teddy. She has cute little freckles and is the princess of the family. She's patient and never gets mad.

Third youngest is Heather. She had her brown hair always in a messy braid to the side, and does she love to paint. Drawing is her thing. She's patient and quiet, an exact copy of our Grandmother.

You'd wonder: if our mother is always at work, who takes care of us eight children? Our grandmother. Our father separated from the family a long time ago. Sam was only ten when it happened. You know how they acknowledge turtles because they can live for a hundred years or more? So can my grandmother.
And she's happy as she does. She's energetic, and acts like a 20-year-old when she's really going to be 100 next year. It seems rather impossible, but she's living proof.

Despite my terribly (un) normal life, there are times when I feel happy. An example of this time is when I eat waffles.

Like this morning. 

Everyone at a very big table that cost basically half of our family's bank account. The center of a table was decorated by a piece of paper with all the eating rules Grandma made written on it in Sam's rather messy handwriting. 

I always sat in between Sophie, who was now checking her Facebook while trying not to get sticky syrup on her phone, and Rick, who was currently bragging about his new book on neurological studies. 

"It's a rare hardcover copy mom bought for me!" He smiled proudly.

"That is wonderful, Rick," My Grandmother smiled. She was a very patient person, and she always knew how to control her boredom whenever Rick talked about his new Neurology books. Of course, Dean wasn't here at the table. He preferred Grandmother to bring lunch to his room. Heather was next, talking of her new masterpiece called Vivian. 

Beau was drinking from his bottle like he was in a world-championship bottle-milk drinking contest. He set and empty bottle down and giggled.

Teddy had on a ridiculous tutu and an incredibly too large bow that perched atop her head.

"Does everyone like breakfast?" Grandma smiled.

"Yup," everyone said, (except Dean, of course, and Beau, who instead said "Boo)."

"Sophie dear," Grandmother smiled, "no electronic devices while eating-"

"But grandmother!"

"Why doesn't everyone learn my my sweet little Teddy-bear?" Grandmother faced Teddy, who seemed to glow when Grandmother mentioned how polite she was acting. "How is it going, Teddy?"

"Yeah, Teds," Sam said.

Teddy glowered in his direction.

"You know perfectly well, Samuel Anderson, not to call her 'Teds'," Grandmother scolded.

Sam looked nearly proud and everyone laughed.

After Dinner every child reports to the big frame of rules. It's this framed list of our schedule.

1: Eat breakfast.

Check.

2: Spend some time in room.

Exactly what we did. 

My room was shared with Sam and Rick. I'm the one in the middle. We all are in the biggest bedroom, split to three rooms with three kid-size beds and three different wall colors (Heather had painted the walls various designs, like for Sam, the longest words in the dictionary, for Rick, a picture of the brains and other mushy neurology stuff, and for me, just blue with a few soccer balls here and there).

Yes, I live in the middle of one spelling teacher and one future Neurologist. Sam's part of the room has some of the world's biggest dictionaries, Rick's side has a huge wall of Neurology books, and my side- well, I have Percy Jackson and some Hunger Games books. 

3: Play outside.

This is the one Dean hates, but then again the only reason he's bothered is because we play outside of his room. Dean doesn't have to play, according to Grandmother's 'fair' rules.

We play tennis and some Volleyball, and Sophie gets smacked in the head for almost half the time because her source of entertainment is mostly her phone.

I always catch the ball, while Rick is trying to read The wonders of Neurology by Jacob O' Hutch.

He got hit so many times its a wonder he isn't getting any injuries by now. 

Sam is actually playing, but he refuses for anyone of us to say 'ball' without stating its definition afterward.

"A sphere object used to play games," I said in a bored voice when I got caught saying the word.
"Incorrect," Sam shrugged, "but the games must go on."
Sam had a thing for inspirational quotes. Heather hurriedly saved her new piece of artwork from the ball, her braid flying though the air. She heavily scolded Beau for throwing the ball at it.
"Gushum," Beau apologized.

4: Story Time.

Every child runs to the story room except for Dean. Loud punk music can be heard from his room.
"Time for a great story," Grandma says, in the story chair.
"We can read little red riding hood, the tales of Humpty Dumpty before he fell, or Gigi's dream."
"LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD!" Everyone said. It was our family favorite, little red riding hood. Grandmother smiled.
"Once Upon a Time, there was a little girl with beautiful red hair. She also had a red hood that her Grandmother gave her, so everyone called her Little Red Riding Hood. One day, Red was sent to deliver a package to her Grandmother, a box filled with her own Pastries. 
Suddenly, a wolf came and asked her for the pastries.
"But these are my grandmother's!" She cried. The wolf tried to block her but she escaped.
Then, another wolf came.
"Give me those pastries!" The wolf commanded-"
"Does the wolf eat her?" Heather asked nervously, and Grandma laughed.

So far, doesn't my life seem wonderful? Not for long.